


Stolen Moments

by SerSparklefingers



Category: Dragon Age, Dragon Age Origins
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-02
Updated: 2015-12-02
Packaged: 2018-05-04 15:36:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5339387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SerSparklefingers/pseuds/SerSparklefingers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Anders and Caolán Amell sneak out past curfew to spend some time with one another.</p><p>Also, for anyone unsure, Caolán is pronounced ‘Keelan’. Enjoy!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stolen Moments

The soft pattering of footsteps could be heard on the cold flagstones of the corridor, stopping suddenly and then resuming their rapid pace. Anders ducked in behind a thick tapestry, fearing that he had heard voices approaching. Thankfully, the two Templars that made their way past were far too eager to get to their beds and so overlooked the two feet the ornate tapestry seemed to have suddenly sprouted. Anders held his breath until they had turned the corner and, waiting until silence returned, set off on his journey once more, doing his best to muffle the tinkling of the two bottles concealed under his robes.

 

Upon reaching his destination, he straightened himself and smoothed down his hair and robes so as to look as though he wasn’t the least bit nervous – from being caught or from meeting the man beyond the doorway, he refused to acknowledge.

 

He creaked the door open and looked around. It was empty, save for the clutter of old tables and chairs, decrepit bookcases with mouldering tomes, which had been deemed ‘unsuitable’, that had been filed her to rot away in to nothing. The only free space was the small, cleared out area in front of the single window where moonlight illuminated the room. Anders feared that Amell had been accosted on his way to their little rendezvous – that was, until, he felt hands on his hips and breath on his neck.

 

“You’re getting sloppy, old boy. I could hear you from halfway down the hall.” Anders could almost hear the grin in the other man’s voice. Anders leapt a foot in the air, clinging to the two bottles of wine which, with the aid of gravity, almost had gone crashing to the floor.

 

“‘Old Boy’? Just because you came through your harrowing unscathed and now sleep in the ‘big boy’ dormitories doesn’t mean you can start talking like Irving.” Anders grinned, grasping one of the bottles and shoving it against Amell’s chest. “Here. To celebrate. Not that you deserve it for trying to scare me half to death.”

 

Caolán cast him a cheeky grin and inspected the bottle, probably looking for some sort of vintage as though he knew anything about fine wines. Anders couldn’t help but smile, inspecting his own bottle boredly while sneaking glances at the other mage. He was breathtaking in the moonlight. All high checkbones dusted by dark lashes, angular face usually framed by a mane of shaggy black hair that had been hastily tied back this evening. The Amell was a few inches taller than Anders’ own stature, more than likely due to the extra year he had on him, but where Anders’ was still a reedy, gangly youth, somehow Amell looked more filled out – Maker knew how, what with the rations they were on.

 

“You’d better appreciate that. It took a lot of flirting and promises of dishwashing to weedle that out of our dear old cook. I swear, she could make milk curdle from one look alone.” Anders sighed, dreading to think of all the dishes she would have him doing in exchange for this small favour. Still, to see Caolán’s face light up was payment enough.

 

“Don’t you give me those sob stories. I know you’d swim through hell or high water for one of our little evening soirees.” Amell grinned, waggling his eyebrows and dislodging the cork from his wine with his teeth, the bottle emitting a loud pop in the process. Anders wrestled with his own bottle, watching the other mage tip his and tilt his head back as he drank, pale throat exposed and looking entirely delectable. Anders gulped audibly.

 

“Yes, well, now that you’re no longer with the apprentices I can hardly call on you as I please. It’s bloody lonely these days.” He pouted, simultaneously wishing for and dreading the day he would have to undergo his own harrowing. Perhaps he’d stop being babied and he could finally leave the crowded dormitories. “And besides, you miss me just as much.”

 

“Of course I do. I cling to my pillow every night, weeping for you. Positively heartbroken I am. I cry myself to sleep most nights.” He simpered, affecting a tortured look.

 

Anders huffed and took a swig of his own drink, ignoring the burn of alcohol he wasn’t quite used to. There was a bond between them, no one could deny. From the day and hour Anders had set foot in the place, refusing to speak out of stubbornness and fear, Caolán had always kept an eye out for him. Whether it was saving him a spot during their meals together or helping him with a particularly tricky rune, he hated runes, the Amell was definitely a guardian angel sent to him. It was unusual that on some nights, Anders would creep in to bed beside him, the both of them stifling their voices under their shared blankets, to fill one another in about their days. Where Anders had shown a natural gift for creation magic through time, Amell had been placed in a different class that had focused more on destruction magic. Naturally, Caolán would regale him with tales of who had set who on fire, or had frozen an unwary templar’s boots to the floor. Unfortunately, all Anders had to report was that he’d managed to make an absolute disaster out of what was supposed to be a regeneration potion but had resulted in a bubbling pile of sludge which he had to chisel off the bottom of his mortar.

 

A few pulls from each bottle had lead them to steal an old sheet to sit on, keeping out most of the chill from the floor. Any form of alcohol being a luxury to them, it wasn’t long before they had grown pink cheeked, their limbs heavy and tongues loose. Anders took the opportunity to catch up with his old friend, probing him for information about his new living quarters, seeing as he had gone up in the world – even if it _was_ only one floor.

 

“I suppose it’s not so bad. There aren’t any bunk beds, thank the Maker. You remember my old bunkmate, Tomas? He was one more cake away from the top bunk collapsing and crushing me to death. I made a lucky escape, despite having to battle demons.” He chuckled, nursing his wine and leaning heavily against Anders.

 

“At least he didn’t snore. Much. Theodosia sounds like a pig trapped in quicksand.” He snorted, making his own sound effects at the inquisitive look Caolán was giving him. It wasn’t long before the two of them had dissolved in to fits of giggles, empty wine bottles rolling away forgotten as limbs tangled and foreheads bumped.

 

Anders looked up at Caolán’s blue eyed gaze, face hot not just from the liquor. There was a look of such tender affection that made his heart ache. As if reading his thoughts, Caolán breathed, “I’ve missed this. Missed you.” A whispered confession that set Anders’ face further aflame. He barely registered how tightly he was holding on to the front of the other man’s robes, afraid that he might pull away and this spell of peaceful tranquillity might be over. In this precious, quiet moment there was no danger of being caught, no more hiding his feelings for fear that they might be exploited. Just bliss, pure and simple.

 

His thudding heart skidded to a stop, however, as Caolán’s head shot up, cocked to the side and obviously listening. It wasn’t long before Anders heard it too. The unmistakeable clanging and clattering of two templars patrolling past their little sanctuary.

 

Anders was the first to act, grasping Caolán’s hand and dragging him further in to the mess and clutter and towards the back of the room, thanking the Maker that there was a large wardrobe for them to hide away in for the time being. Wrenching the door open, he shoved the other mage inside and followed suit, gently pulling the door behind him as he heard the patrol enter the room.

 

He was correct in his assumption – two bucket heads in skirts out patrolling the halls at night. Anders wasn’t too concerned. Knowing how sloppy the patrols got once night fell, they’d probably cast a cursory glance around the room, deem it empty and be on their way. That’s what would have happened, had they not spied two empty, overturned wine bottles. Anders could feel his stomach plummet. Reaching out a hand to clasp Caolán’s in his own, he found the other mage was shaking like a leaf.  
  
“What’s the matter with you?” he breathed, palms beginning to sweat with how nervous the Amell’s own agitated state was making him. Outside he could still hear the two templars grumbling to one another, trying to pick their way towards their hiding place to investigate further.

 

“I’m a mage that trains in destruction magic. If they see me skulking about after curfew, the penalties will be far worse, regardless if I’ve passed my harrowing or not.” Caolán choked out, teeth chattering like castanets.

 

Anders tried to swallow down the lump in his throat. What if they were caught and they took Caolán away? Irving would hardly be sympathetic, he was already the Knight Commander’s lapdog. Instead, he took Caolán’s face in his hands and leaned close to whisper in his ear.

 

“Listen, they aren’t going to take you. We’re going to stay quiet and they’re going to get bored and wander off back down the hallway and even if they do try to take you I’ll drown them in a sea of fire to keep you safe.” Anders choked, not sure whether or not he was reassuring Caolán or himself. He could see Caolán nodding hastily in the darkness, clutching at the front of Anders’ robes and trying not to breathe too loudly.

 

“Maker, Percival there’s nothing here. Those bottles could have been there for weeks and we wouldn’t have known. And I’m not wasting my time wading through this crap.” One of the templars groused, making his way back to his partner and almost tripping on a spare stool.

 

The two mages didn’t dare breathe for the next few minutes, Caolán’s knees still shaking and Anders’ heart still threatening to burst forth from his ribcage. Soon the silence became deafening, their pulses slowed and they both simultaneously let out the breath that they had each been holding.

 

Anders was the first to emerge, Caolán treading after him. The both stared down at the wine bottles and their makeshift blanket underneath the small window. Neither seemed to feel like talking, their illusion of peace being so thoroughly and suddenly shattered that their hearts still fluttered like the wings of a frightened bird.

 

“So you’d drown those templars in a sea of fire to keep me safe, hmm?” Caolán said, smirking but the tremor in his voice betraying his nerves. Yet it was just like the Amell to try and lift the mood at the most inappropriate of moments. That and to take any opportunity to make Anders blush.

 

“Oh very funny. Here I am trying to calm you down in case the templars heard your knees knocking together and getting us caught. Besides, it was the drink talking. I should probably go sleep it off.” He sniffed, dreading the trip back to his cramped little cot in the overcrowded dormitories. Going back to bed was the very last thing he wished to do.

 

“Yes, you’re probably right. We don’t know if they’ll come back or not.” Caolán muttered distantly, eyes firmly fixed on the door. He worried the sleeve of his robe between his fingers, clearly anxious.

 

Anders made to slip past him, hand already on the door handle when he felt the other mage tugging at his sleeve. He turned around, only to collide with Caolán, whose soft lips covered his own in a chaste kiss. He could feel his eyes slide shut, leaning against the other man and chasing his lips when he pulled back. He felt their noses brush, and Caolán exhaling a soft laugh that tickled his already tingling lips.

 

“I’ll come and visit you when I can. Try hanging about the library as much as possible.” He grinned, brushing their noses once more. “Now off to bed with you, ‘apprentice’. It’s past your curfew.”

 

And with that, Anders slipped through the door and back to his dormitory, heart feeling lighter than he could ever remember.


End file.
